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their reception, and bowing profoundly, they waited in silence for what he would say.

“The wheel of fortune turns and brings down the haughty,” said the prince. “You did not wish to come at our request, but now you come at your own desire.”

“Your Highness,” said Osinski, with firmness, “we wished with all our souls to serve with you, but the order was definite. Let him who issued it answer for it. We beg pardon; though we are innocent, for as soldiers we were obliged to obey and be silent.”

“Then Prince Dominik has withdrawn the order?” asked the prince.

“The order is not withdrawn,” said Osinski, “but it is no longer binding, since the only salvation and refuge for our forces is with you, under whose command we wish henceforth to live and serve and die.”

These words, full of manly power, and the form of Osinski produced the very best impression on the prince and the officers; for he was a famous soldier, and though still young, not more than forty years of age, was full of warlike experience which he had acquired in foreign armies. Every military eye rested on him with pleasure. Tall, straight as a reed, with yellow mustaches brushed upward and a Swedish beard, he recalled completely by his uniform and stature the colonels of the Thirty Years’ War. Koritski, a Tartar by origin, resembled him in nothing. Low in stature and dumpy, he had a gloomy look, and his appearance was strange in a foreign uniform, not befitting his Oriental features. He led a picked German regiment, and had a reputation for bravery as well as moroseness, and the iron rigor with which he held his soldiers.

“We wait the commands of your Highness,” said Osinski.

“I thank you for your decision, and I accept your services. I know that a soldier must obey; and if I sent for you, it was because I was unaware of the order. Not only shall we pass henceforth good and evil times together, but I hope that you will be pleased with your new service.”

“If you are pleased with us and with our officers.”

“Very good!” said the prince. “Is the enemy far behind you?”

“Scouting-parties are near, but the main force may arrive here tomorrow.”

“Very well, we have time then. Order your regiments to march across the square; let me look at them, so I may know what kind of soldiers you bring me, and if much can be done with them.”

The colonels returned to their regiments, and soon after were marching at the head of them into the camp. Soldiers of the picked regiments of the prince hurried out like ants to look at their new comrades. The royal dragoons, under Captain Giza, marched in front with heavy Swedish helmets and lofty crests. They rode Podolian horses, but matched and well fed. These men, fresh and rested, with bright and glittering uniforms, had a splendid appearance in comparison with the emaciated regiments of the prince, in tattered uniforms, faded from rain and sun. After these followed Osinski with his regiment, and in the rear Koritski. A murmur of applause was heard among the prince’s cavalry at the sight of the deep German ranks. Their collars red, on their shoulders shining muskets, they marched thirty in a rank, with the step of a single man, strong and thundering. Tall, sturdy fellows all of them⁠—old soldiers who had been in more than one country and in more than one battle, for the most part veterans of the Thirty Years’ War, skilled, disciplined, and experienced.

When they marched up to the prince, Osinski cried, “Halt!” and the regiment stood as if foot-bound to the earth; the officers raised their staffs, the standard-bearer raised his standard, and waving it three times, lowered it before the prince. “Vorwärts!” commanded Osinski, “Vorwärts!” repeated the officers, and the regiments advanced again. In the same way but in almost better form, did Koritski present his troops. At the sight of all this the soldiers’ hearts were rejoiced; and Yeremi, judge beyond judges, put his hands on his hips with delight, looked, and smiled⁠—for infantry was just what he wanted, and he was sure that it would be difficult for him to find better in the whole world. He felt increased in power, and hoped to accomplish great things in war. The suite began to speak of different military topics and of the various kinds of soldiers to be seen in the world.

“The Zaporojian infantry is good, especially behind intrenchments,” said Sleshinski; “but these are better, for they are better drilled.”

“Of course a great deal better!” said Migurski.

“But they are heavy men,” said Vershul. “If I had to do it, I should undertake to tire them out with my Tartars in two days, so that on the third I could slaughter them like sheep.”

“What are you talking about? The Germans are good soldiers.”

To this Pan Longin Podbipienta answered in his singing Lithuanian voice: “How God in his mercy has endowed different nations with different virtues! As I hear, there is no cavalry in the world better than ours, and again neither our infantry nor the Hungarian can be compared with the German.”

“Because God is just,” remarked Zagloba. “For instance, he gave you a great fortune, a big sword, and a heavy hand, but small wit.”

“Zagloba has fastened on him like a horseleech,” said Pan Yan, smiling.

But Podbipienta contracted his eyes and spoke with the mildness usual to him: “An outrage to hear! And he gave you too long a tongue.”

“If you maintain that God did ill in giving me what I have, then you will go to hell with your virtue, for you wish to oppose his will.”

“Oh, who can out-talk you? You talk and talk.”

“Do you know how a man is different from an animal?”

“How?”

“By reason and speech.”

“Oh, he has given it to him, he has given it to him!” said Mokrski.

“If you don’t understand why in Poland there is better cavalry and among the

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